


Champagne Supernova

by ava_jamison



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Catwoman (Comics), Catwoman - All Media Types
Genre: BatCat, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 19:37:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12871563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ava_jamison/pseuds/ava_jamison
Summary: Batman and Catwoman make love.





	Champagne Supernova

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Zolac No Miko, for the beta!
> 
> This is just a pwp. If you want a story, go here!:  
> Selina in mourning: [A Lady’s Favor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12743904):Batman is dead, but he wore something to remind him of Selina, when he went into battle. (People really seem to like this fic in particular) Rating: G  
> Selina in mourning: [Compartments](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12743049): Both Selina and Bruce are very private people. Rating: G  
> A date between Selina and Bruce. [Come Softly, Darling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/164892) Rating: G  
> [Vigilant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12481288) Batman in love. Rating: G  
> Selina and Bruce making love: [ Supplicant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/165629)  
> I have other BatCat things as well. Enjoy. I’m taking a break from BatCat because of Batman Annual 2 and too many sad feelings right now. Leave me a comment if you’d like. Maybe it'll cheer me up a little. *Goes off and cries a bit.*
> 
> PS: As soon as I say I'm done with them, I start to get ideas. Go figure. No, you two! No! You are the OTP of my heart and my heart, it is broken right now.

Sirens blare in the distance as Gotham’s finest chase some unlucky fool but Catwoman isn’t a fool and she's always lucky. High above the dirty streets, she tiptoes a quick, careful path across rooftops, slipping in and out of shadows. The night air's crisp and clean, and she dropped off her loot with her fence an hour ago.

A crunch of gravel behind her and a gauntleted hand shoots out from a parapet, encircling her wrist in an iron grip. “Not so fast,” an impossibly deep voice rumbles. 

“Bruce,” she wants to say and he must see it in her eyes, her pleasure at seeing him, here, high above the streets of Gotham. He’s been missing what—ten days? Maybe more, and a warm light flares inside her at the sight of him, safe and healthy and alive. “Batman,” she says, not “Bruce,” like she wants to say, but he reminds her anyway.

“No names in the field,” he says, the curve of his smile a soft dare against the side of her face.

She laughs, because he smiles so rarely, and this time it’s all for her. “Nice work, big boy.” She counterbalances, twisting, trying a new move he hasn't seen. He’s not expecting it, and she smiles when she slips out of his hold, backing into a roundhouse kick. Her foot barely glances his jaw and he’s got her by the ankle and then they both hit the ground, rolling and grappling for dominance. Until he kisses her.

“Here?” she says, because it’s that kind of kiss, like he’s been dying for her, a kind of kiss she knows, and yes, he’s had her up here on the rooftop, or they’ve had each other, had this. He’s taken her against a chimney stack, the brick rough even through the leather of her suit, pinned there by his broad, dense muscles. She’s ridden him on a gargoyle and she's ready now, up for whatever's on the menu but he just growls, low in his throat. The sound does things to her, makes a ribbon of something dark and secret flare up from the deepest depths of her, makes it burn brighter when he grits out the words "your place." It's not a question, and that only makes it hotter but she still makes him work for it anyway, moving fast and smooth and staying just a few steps ahead.

She flicks the hasps on her skylight just as he tackles her, sending them both flying through and onto her bed and then he’s fumbling—Batman is fumbling and it’s both incredibly endearing and incredibly hot that she does this to him. He doesn’t strip, doesn’t even loosen that damn suit, but he gets her out of hers and pushes her onto her back and sinks to his knees, and then his mouth is on her. His _mouth_. His breath is cool on her sex, warmed from her leather, until it’s hot, positively hot and his lips touch her, a soft, chaste kiss, as if so intimate a kiss could ever be chaste but it is, soft and tender and gentle, and then his lips part and he’s tasting her, slowly, like he’s savoring her, mapping the curves and dips of her. She’s already wet, has been since they started sparring, and his tongue finds that, licks her, lapping at her. She shivers and his hands come up, one on each hip, strong and warm and firm, anchoring her in place while he explores the warm and hidden places of her, before softly, gently biting and then she’s squirming in his arms.

“God,” she says, then, “Batman,” cutting off the name that wants to come, wants to come as surely as the pleasure that's building inside her. He pulls back the cowl and licks again, soft and tender, then harder, just slightly, because he’s a tease and a terror and knows how to play her, make her want to claw at something. She does, reaching for his head, hands in his hair and pulling him closer between her legs, sliding them further apart so that he can slip his tongue farther, taste the deepest, wettest part of her. She’s so slick now, so needy, and she buries her hands in his hair, digging in her fingernails so he sits back, looking at her. His face is flushed because she made him like that and it’s a power trip for sure, a heady thrill that only gets hotter when his lips tilt up with the slightest hint of a dirty smile and he takes her wrists, pinning her still with huge hands and an iron grip.

It’s a contrast, the softness of his lips and mouth and the strong way he manhandles her, and right now, for right now, she lets him, revels in it. She’d never let anyone else hold her like this, but she’d never let anyone else take her on a rooftop, either. She’s close now, between his lips and his tongue and the warm, sure grip of his hands on her wrists, and the tension deep in her core builds and builds until she comes like she's cresting a wave, breaking, her whole world this night and the stars through her skylight and this man at her feet in her bed.

He waits, just a moment, kisses and wipes his face on the inside of her thigh, but then he sweeps up to cover her with his massive, strong body. His cape rustles and somehow he’s opened his suit and he’s kissing her, the taste of herself on his lips, and then he’s taking her, filling her to soothe the low ache he left behind when he made her come with his mouth. It’s slow and hard and deep and dirty, because he knows precisely how to give it to her and this time she really does see stars as the tension builds again, this time deep inside. This time she says his name, whispers, “Bruce,” when she’s close, riding the wave that’s pooling, then building again, this time higher and deeper than the first. He fucks her through it, kissing her as he drives into her, pounds into her and as she comes a second time, he finally lets himself go, letting out a hoarse, rough breath as he floods her with himself, hot and deep and long.

They pant, clinging to each other, him cradling her head, his face against her neck, and her looking up at the stars. Each a little bit vulnerable, but only for a moment. It’s all they’ll let themselves have. For now, for tonight, it’s enough.


End file.
